Squirmers: A Nap Lapkin Story (Part 3)

The groundskeeper at Walcott’s Rolling Hills Cemetery has a secret.

Other than, of course, that there were no hills without a hundred miles of Rolling Hills Cemetery.

No, his secret was that every day he was privy to a supernatural show. For the first few months it terrified him, but eventually it just became part of his daily routine. Blow the leaves off of plots, replace dried up flowers, watch a small group of Indian men bind a small child and then lower them into the ground.

He often thought about telling someone or videotaping the proceedings, but he felt it would violate some sort of trust between himself and the otherworldly participants.

So instead he sat against a tree until the show started, the various characters flickering into existence to begin their bizarre ritual.

It didn’t matter what the weather, when the ghostly group made their entrance the wind died down and the area became completely silent. No insects or animals in the surrounding area made any noise and the only thing that the groundskeeper could hear was the buzzing of things coming into existence that moments before had not been there. The hair on his arms and neck always stood at attention.

Once the squirming child had been lowered into the earth the men would slowly begin to fill in the grave. Once that was complete, they again flickered and disappeared.

After a few minutes, right on cue, things quieted down and the proceedings began.

Except something was off. He’d seen this production a hundred times and while it looked almost identical, it wasn’t. The men stood in different places and the child fought more urgently.

The groundskeeper stood up. Something was wrong.

He walked slowly forward and realized that the buzzing that usually accompanied the beginning of the daily drama was still there.

One of the shimmering men looked over at him and the groundskeeper felt panic rising in his chest.

And that’s when he felt it. Stabbing pains in his feet.

He looked down to see his boots starting to disappear into the ground. The pain grew sharper and he let out a surprised whimper, which seconds later turned into a scream. He felt each blade of grass cutting into his feet as he sunk into the well-manicured lawn.

He stared down as his ankles were swallowed up and then his knees. He struggled but it was too late to run, he was held firmly in place.

By now all of the apparitions were looking at him. His lower extremities were on fire, merging with the soil and rock as his hands could now almost touch the ground.

And then they could.

Helplessly he saw the area where his lower half used to reside soaked with his blood, his waist being drawn into the earth.

His screaming subsided as blood poured from his mouth. His arms twitched furiously until they too began to disappear into the ground.

Soon it was just his head and then there wasn’t even that.

Just a large red stain on the grass where he’d been standing moments earlier.

The figures flickered and then disappeared.